Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
“This is where I will be staying?” Beatrice asked, slowly turning in a circle in the middle of the opulent room.
Even though she was still wary of what was happening, she had to admit, the room was beautiful.
With its ice blue silk wallpaper, matching drapes, and a large, four-poster bed with champagne silk bedding, it was the epitome of luxury.
There was also a large white marble fireplace across from the bed with a wide, white fur rug stretched across the large space in between.
Opposite the wall of windows sat a white marble vanity, already laden with ivory-handled brushes and other products for ladies.
Between the door and the fireplace sat a small round table with two chairs laden with plump light purple cushions.
It was a stark difference from the room she’d been in for the last fifteen years, so much so that it made Beatrice feel oddly emotional as she once more took in all of the finery.
“For the time being,” Algernon stated from behind her. “Should my brother choose to marry, you will of course move in with him. When that happens, you will have an entire suite of rooms.”
Beatrice turned around to face the man that had purchased her. Taking in his handsome features, she brought her hands up to her arms and wrapped them around herself—something she did when she felt small and insecure.
“Are you cold?” Algernon asked, his green eyes grazing down her body in a way that made her shiver. “I can light the fire.”
“You?” Beatrice asked, raising a curious brow. “The Master of the House?”
Algernon barked out a laugh as he shrugged his jacket off of his wide shoulders.
“It is late, and I do not need to wake my servants for something as so trivial as starting a fire,” he replied.
Beatrice felt warmth flood through her cheeks as Algernon took off his jacket.
She had seen his wide stature plainly before, but without the jacket, she could see the bulk of his muscular form clearly beneath his black cotton shirt.
She watched him curiously as he knelt down to the hearth and went to work starting a fire.
He was by far the most confusing man she had ever met—not that she had had the opportunity to meet many. He was gruff one second and kind the next. Then in the next breath, he was aloof and distant, and yet now, he was lighting a fire for her simply because she’d touched her own arms.
“Perhaps we should start again,” Beatrice said as Algernon breathed life into the fire then rose to his feet.
“I must be honest. I am in need of a husband, so I am willing to go along with much if that is where I shall end up. Despite how it came to be so, I am grateful to be away from my father and would like to stay that way. Would you please tell me why you purchased me?”
Algernon shifted on his feet as he frowned, as if the question made him uncomfortable.
“That is what you did, did you not?” Beatrice asked for clarification.
“I must insist you do not state it that way,” Algernon replied as the small flames grew into a raging fire.
Beatrice shivered as heat poured from the fireplace, and she took a few steps closer to bask in the warmth. It might have been late spring, but given the day’s events, her body, she realized, had been trembling nonstop since the moment her father told her she was leaving.
“Very well,” Beatrice agreed with a nod.
Algernon seemed to study her for a long time before he moved again. He took a bottle of wine from the mantle, grabbed two glasses, and nodded at her to join him at the table.
“Have a drink,” he insisted, uncocking the bottle. “It will settle your nerves.”
She looked at the bottle. She’d never had spirits before.
“Your explanation will settle my nerves, Your Grace,” Beatrice insisted.
“You shall have both,” Algernon commanded, pulling out the chair for her.
For a moment, they stared one another down.
Then, realizing that the conversation was not going to move forward unless she did as she was told, Beatrice took a seat, and lifted her glass to her lips.
Algernon watched her, as if waiting to see for himself that she swallowed, then he too took a seat across from her and drank from his glass.
“My younger brother Henry is in need of a wife,” Algernon stated.
Beatrice’s brows perked with surprise.
“Your younger brother?” she asked.
“Indeed. He is eight and twenty years old,” Algernon explained.
“He is smart. Handsome featured. Quite the social creature when it comes to friendships and soirees, but he is quite clumsy when it comes to more romantic relationships. I wish to spare him any unsavory talk from the ton in the event that his clumsiness would lead him to being embarrassed.”
“So, this would be a marriage of convenience?” Beatrice asked.
Algernon’s brow rose.
“You are opposed to that?” he asked.
“Not at all,” she quickly replied. “I do not wish to go into the details of my life before tonight, but I will say that even a marriage of convenience would be far better than what I am used to. As long as there is a kindness and mutual respect, I am willing to go along with almost any ruse we need to create for the ton.”
Algernon’s brows rose up, as if he were surprised.
“That is quite a progressive way to look at this situation,” he admitted.
Beatrice shrugged as she brought the glass of wine back to her lips, liking not just the taste but the effect it had on her nerves.
Now that she knew a little more, she felt more comfortable with where she was, and she took a deeper sip than before, enjoying the way it made warmth bloom in her head, belly, and chest.
“As I said earlier, I am most determined to live a better life than what I have been accustomed to,” Beatrice replied after she swallowed.
“Well, I can assure you that Henry will be both kind and respectful toward you as long as you can accept him for who he is,” Algernon replied.
“And who is he?” Beatrice asked then took another long sip of her wine.
For the first time since they met, Algernon looked uncomfortable.
Once more, Algernon’s face shifted into an expression she could not read.
His eyes shifted away from hers and toward the fire.
He lifted his glass to his lips, drained it, and poured some more before draining that portion just as fast.
“I believe that is his business to tell,” Algernon replied at last. “Just know that at best, you and Henry could be very good friends. If you gave him a chance, you and Henry could become quite close.”
Algernon finally shifted his gaze back to Beatrice, and as she saw the apprehension—perhaps even a tinge of fear there, she could not help but offer him a small smile.
“It has been a long time since I have had a friend,” Beatrice said, her tone soft as she looked on at the man that had relieved her of her old life. “Perhaps the three of us could all be friends one day.”
For the first time that evening, Algernon’s lips drew toward a smile, and he raised his glass to her.
“Dare I say that would be lovely,” he replied, his deep voice calm, hopeful even.
Beatrice raised her glass toward him, and the two of them drank.
“So,” Beatrice said as she sat her empty glass back on the table, “when do we get married?”
Algernon chortled as he rose from his chair.
“What is so humorous?” Beatrice asked, rising as well.
“I am afraid this plan has multiple steps,” Algernon confessed as he made his way to the door. “Step one was obtain the bride.” He smirked and to her surprise, he even gave her a rather charming wink as he pointed to her. “Step two, have said bride agree to marry him—which, thank you by the way.”
“You are welcome,” Beatrice said, tilting her head slightly as her curiosity about the situation intensified, “And what is step three?”
At this, Algernon gave her a grin so handsome that it made her cheeks flush and her lower belly alight with butterflies.
“Step three is getting Henry to agree to the marriage,” Algernon confessed. “You see… he does not yet know that he is to be married.”
Beatrice stood in shock long after Algernon said his goodbye and left her to rest. She was trying her best to wrap her mind around everything that had happened in the last several hours, but it was if she could not quite grasp such a reality.
That morning had been so normal. She had woken up in the attic, dressed in her maid uniform, and went to work.
She took the berating of her stepmother and stepsister in silence as she completed her chores.
She kept her head down as her father shot her dirty looks.
She kept her tears to herself as she mourned her mother and the life she once had.
Now, it was time for something new. Even if getting to this point was terrifying, the era for change had approached, and Beatrice wanted it.
“Pardon, my lady?”
Beatrice jolted from her shock and looked up. She met the pretty face of a young maid, who gave her a tentative smile before curtsying.
“Forgive me for startling you, my lady,” the maid offered. “I did knock first.”
Beatrice shook her head and moved toward the maid to help her stand up straight. After the life she had lived, it did not feel right to her to have someone else bow to her.
“That is quite all right,” Beatrice replied. “I did not hear you. I thought the Duke said it was too late for servants to be available?”
“Normally, yes, but His Grace roused me and asked me to make sure that you were comfortably settled,” the maid replied.
Pity flashed through the maid’s soft brown eyes as she gave Beatrice another tentative smile.
“His Grace suggested that you might have had quite the awful day and might need some assistance settling down.”
Beatrice let out a dry laugh and nodded.
“You could say that,” she acknowledged. “Yes, I suppose His Grace would be correct. Please, may I ask your name?”
“Mira, my lady,” the maid answered. She moved to curtsey again, and again, Beatrice stopped her.
“Please, do not do that,” Beatrice insisted.
“As you wish, my lady,” Mira replied softly. “I am heating water for a bath for you, and there are some leftovers in the larder that I could bring up for you to nibble on. Some lamb and parsnips and other fixings. Or I could make you something fresh?”
Beatrice’s stomach grumbled loudly at Mira’s words, and it was only then she realized she hadn’t eaten since lunch the day before.
“Whatever you bring me shall be suitable,” Beatrice replied, placing a hand over her empty stomach, “And a bath sounds positively lovely. Do you need help bringing up the tub?”
Mira laughed softly as she shook her head.
“Oh, no, my Lady, you have your own bathing suite just through that door over there. The tub remains there, and we keep a reserve of water for heating in there as well, so we may prepare you a bath whenever you wish.”
Beatrice’s brows rose in surprise. She had never heard of such a thing.
At her father’s house, she and other maids were constantly having to bring the heavy tub from Verity’s room to Elpseth’s to her father’s.
Then, of course, there was the arduous task of heating and bringing multiple buckets of water.
“You have nothing to worry about while you are here, my lady,” Mira insisted, as if sensing Beatrice’s discomfort. “His Grace has made it clear that you are his guest. Please, relax. I shall fetch your vittles, and when you are finished eating, I shall help you into your bath.”
Though still uncomfortable with the sudden shift of her life, Beatrice nodded.
As she waited for Mira to return with her dinner, she walked over to the vanity and delicately traced her fingers along the ivory brushes and combs.
They were far fancier than the basic wooden one she had brought from home, but she was thankful they were not silver like Verity’s or Elspeth’s.
After studying them a moment longer, Beatrice sat down, loosed her hair from its remaining pins, and tentatively picked up the finely made brush.
Her eyes rose to the mirror then she began to brush her hair.
The soft bristles parted her tendrils gently, and she smiled at the lack of discomfort.
As she brushed, Beatrice took in her reflection.
She looked the same as yesterday she wagered.
Yet as she took in the delicate curve of her brows, the small slope of her nose, the planes of her cheeks, and the plumpness of her lips, she felt as if she was looking at a completely different person.
Then she realized something—she was different. She was no longer a servant. No longer one of the lost. Her life had changed, and she was determined to leave the past behind her.
Beatrice ate the cold mutton and parsnips with a quickness once Mira returned with them, and when she was finished with her plate, Mira had filled her bath.
Despite Mira’s insistence to help her disrobe, Beatrice dismissed the maid and undressed herself.
Standing naked before the fireplace, Beatrice balled up the dress and threw it into the flames.
Yes, it might have been her mother’s, but it also represented a night that she would never want to remember.
A night that she would never be able to forget.
She stepped into the warm water and sank down into the tub as she kept her eyes on the burning dress.
It was only when the last of the fabric turned black and curled in on itself that she drew her head under the water and let herself be fully submerged by its heat.
When she drew up from the water and took her breath, Beatrice vowed to shed her past completely.